


Distance

by RedFiretrucks



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Jean doesn't know what he's doing, Jean is trying to figure out his feelings for Marco, M/M, Marco is clueless as always, Neither do I, So beware, Wow, also Jean swears a lot, but he's cute so it's okay, i warned you, possible spoilers in later chapters, um
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-07
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-25 22:01:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/958092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedFiretrucks/pseuds/RedFiretrucks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marco has always been more than nice to Jean, going out of his way to make sure the grump was happy. Or, at least as happy as he could be. Jean finds himself being drawn more and more to the freckled boy, but how long will it take for Jean to own up to his affections?</p><p>My first fic on this site!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Heat Tetany

**Author's Note:**

> Um, this is my first fanfiction on this website, so I hope everybody likes it!! JeanMarco is my OTP, so I'll probably write a lot about them. Jean is doesn't know if he's gay or not, to put it bluntly. I hope you enjoy it!

It was a hot, humid summer afternoon. Cicadas sung from their perches high in the trees, droning on and on with their redundant hums. The air was thick, muggy. The orange-red sky was brushed gently with fluffy clouds, and amidst the sea of warmth flew tiny silhouettes of birds on their way home, to their families. Tired soldiers flitted about the Barracks, sweating profusely beneath their uniforms and chatting about the highlights of the day. Training was over for the day, and things were beginning to settle into the quiet lull of night. 

In one of the cabins, two boys had stripped of their maneuver gear and uniform coats. They sat on their respective beds. A tall, well-built boy was wrestling to remove his boots. His hair was long for a boy’s, cutting off just below his eyebrows, with the sides and back shaved down to short stubble. He had golden eyes that matched his slightly duller hair. His face was flushed red from the persistent heat, and he panted softly. 

“Oi, this heat is killing me, Marco,” he lamented, ripping one of his boots from his foot. It revealed a foot cloaked in a heavy black sock, though the sock was full of holes. The blonde discarded the shoe and wiped his forehead which was slick with sweat. 

“C’mon, Jean,” the other boy laughed, unbuttoning his shirt. “It’s not that bad.” He has short black hair that starkly contrasted with his pale skin. He had a multitude of freckles all over his body, but the majority of them were on his cheeks and shoulders. He was taller than the other boy, known as Jean, and more muscled than he. This raven hair, Marco, shed his shirt like a snake its skin, peeling out of the restricting fabric. Lean muscles rippled beneath his skin, his wiry frame dotted by cuts and bruises received through training. 

“Are you kidding?” Jean huffed, throwing his other boot on the floor with the other, along with both his socks. “I’m practically melting in my skin!” He wasted no time in tearing free of his shirt with an exhausted gasp. His skin was an unusual pale, save his cherry red face. “I get training us to be strong and durable, but that much training in heat like this isn’t humane. “ Marco looked over at the other, realizing that something besides the heat was wrong with Jean. 

“Hey, do you feel okay?” the taller boy asked, crossing the room to his friend. “I mean, besides the heat. You’re awfully pale.” Without waiting for an answer, he lifted a freckled hand to Jean’s forehead. He was burning up, more so than everybody else. “You’re running a temperature.”

“I’ll live,” Jean pushed Marco’s hand away. He wasn’t fond of being babied—he was an independent fifteen year-old, after all. Especially by his best friend, whom he wanted to admire and respect him. Maybe even more than that. You see, Jean had been wrestling with his emotions lately, specifically those involving the tall raven. He’d felt something more than admiration, more than kinship towards the other, though he wasn’t sure why. Boys were supposed to like girls, not boys. And though he kept telling himself this, he couldn’t help but to admire everything about Marco. His personality was straightforward but kind, a true leader amongst his peers. Not to mention his beautiful physique. Jean loved everything about Marco, but he couldn’t bring himself to this realization. 

Hesitantly, Marco left Jean’s side. “If you say so,” he said, voice wavering slightly. Of course, he had every intention of keeping his eye on Jean. The other boy wasn’t like any other he’d seen. Jean was belligerent and outspoken, but wiser than anybody really looked into. His nasty attitude was quite the deal breaker when it came to friends, but Marco’s optimism when it came to people helped him push through that tough outer shell. All Marco saw was a weak soul in a strong body, somebody frantic for guidance but too stuck up to ask. But with a gentle nudge in the right direction, he had a lot of potential. So Marco did his best to make Jean happy, even if it was just with the little things like an extra blanket when it’s cold or offering him extra food after meals were served (if he was still hungry, of course). Any tough cookie could be cracked with kindness. 

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The two readied themselves for supper as the sun sunk lower and lower in the sky, orange fading to a soft blue-purple. Stars awoke in the changing sky, twinkling faintly in the dying light. The heat was still as brutal as it had been during the day, however, and Jean wasn’t faring any better. He felt sluggish, hardly having the strength to lift his food to his mouth. The blonde panted softly between bites, eventually giving up on food and resigning to sleep. Marco hurriedly gulped down his food and left with Jean, heart aching for the poor soul. Everybody gave them queer looks as the left the mess hall early—Jean ate enough food for one and a half soldiers, but tonight, he’d barely eaten a scrap of bread. 

When Jean hauled himself into bed, Marco laid his hand across the other’s forehead. Still overheated. Stubborn as ever, Jean swatted Marco’s hand away again. The sweat on Jean’s forehead was gross, but it didn’t stop the caring raven from trying to help. 

“Jean, you’re seriously not okay,” Marco pleaded. “Do you want some water?” All he earned was a frustrated groan as Jean flipped over, turning his face away. Apparently, heat made him a bigger ass than usual. Jean’s face wasn’t only flushed from the heat, but from the attention he was getting. The flaxen haired boy just wiped the sweat off his forehead and stretched out, revealing part of his back and sides. This made Marco blush furiously.  
The older boy harbored a major crush on Jean as well, but he could never admit it. If he came out as gay to the other soldiers, he didn’t think they’d respect them, or at least see him in the same light. But Marco’s feelings for Jean had become overwhelming as of late. He had to keep the reins tight on himself; Jean liked Mikasa, not him. Not other men. It wasn’t fair. All he really wanted in life was to join the Military Police and find a nice guy to settle down with. Live a quiet life, protect the king. Was it really too much to ask for? Giving a restrained sigh, Marco retreated to his own bed and lied down. 

While Marco was having a bout of inner toil about his seemingly one-sided affections, Jean was having one of his own. All he could think about was confessing his feelings, while they were alone together. About Marco laughing and confessing his own hidden love. But it couldn’t happen. Jean’s breathing sped up, a tingling feeling enveloping his legs. He tried to move them around, get the blood pumping, but the odd sensation didn’t dissipate. 

“Oh, shit,” he growled, voice laced with anxiety. “What the hell is going on?!” Jean sat up, pushing his back against the wall. Marco was by his side almost instantly, asking what was wrong. “My legs… feel all weird. Shit, shit, shit.” He was breathing quickly with a pace like that of a rabbit’s. 

“Jean, please calm down!” Marco plopped down on Jean’s bed, grabbing the other’s shoulders. His entire body seemed tense. “Here, let me get you some water!” Marco bolted over to his bed, grabbed his half-full canteen, and returned to Jean. He emptied the contents into his friend’s mouth, but Jean still needed to settle down. All he could think to do in the spur of the moment was hug him. And that’s exactly what happened.  
As soon as Marco had his arms around Jean, the younger was stopped. He wasn’t calm or soothed; it was more along the lines of ‘I really don’t know how to handle this situation oh crap what do I do?’ Marco smelled like sweat and roses, an odd but intoxicating combination. He was warm, but it didn’t even matter, because Jean’s breathing was slowing down a bit, back to the slow pant it had been earlier. The blonde tucked his face into the crook of his Marco’s neck, seeing it had no other place to go. The tingling sensation was slowly ebbing away, to Jean’s relief. He just kept breathing in, out, relishing in Marco’s sweet scent. 

“You okay now?” Marco asked, pulling back, face red as a beet. Jean managed to nod, a pang of disappointment twisting in his stomach. Why was he disappointed? It didn’t make sense. He didn’t like Marco. Not like that, anyways. He couldn’t. It wasn’t normal. The tingles that resided in his toes turned to numbness, worrying Jean again. He pulled Marco back, holding on to the raven’s wiry figure like his very life depended on it. That calming smell came back, and the numbness retreated, leaving the tingles once more. 

“Please, just… stay here for a little,” he breathed, fingers gripping Marco’s shirt so hard that it hurt. Marco gave an affirming noise, adjusting himself into a more comfortable position. Gradually, Jean’s hold on the shirt loosened, and he let Marco go with a shaky sigh. “Thank you… for being there,” he closed his eyes and hid his face in his hands. “I was just… really worked up over something. But I think I’m better now.”

A sweet smile spread across Marco’ face. “Any time,” he told Jean. “Do you wanna talk about whatever was wrong? It usually helps me to get it all out.”

“No, I think I’m good,” Jean said hurriedly, almost cutting off the end of Marco’s sentence. “I’m fine. But, seriously, thanks.” Marco stood, straightening out his clothes, and sat on his bed. 

"Goodnight, Jean,” he smiled, taking off his boots and laying down. Jean sure was glad that they’d parted when they did, because right after Marco lied down, the other members of their cabin returned from dinner. His head swam with everything that had just happened, all the feelings that bubbled up in his stomach when he thought too hard were nauseating. But when Jean remembered how Marco smelled, how gentle his embrace was, he had no trouble slipping away into an unconscious bliss. 

 

The question now was how long it would take for Jean to own up to his affections.


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next day...

Jean laid in bed, head swarming with questions and insecurities, Marco and roses, cicadas and numbness. The past day's events had left him a little startled. And Jean Kirstein was rarely startled. 

_You're not gay, you don't like Marco,_ his mind whispered, like affection was some newly discovered form of leopracy. So fucking what if he liked Marco? He was a nice guy-- _Damnit! Now I'm fighting myself over something I'm not sure about and, God, it's so fucking stressful and fuck why am I fighting myself? I know I like girls! Mikasa is the finest piece of meat I've ever seen!_ And so Jean kept spitting back and forth, between the two halves of his heart, why he did and did not love Marco. 

"Hey, horse face," the troubled blonde heard somebody, Jaeger, hiss. "Stop being so damn restless! Some of us have training in the morning!" The whisper-screams from Jean's rival, when accompanied by a chorus of sleepy agreements, made Jean realise that he'd been tossing and turning. What time was it, four, five in the morning? They would be getting up soon anyways! What did it matter? 

Nevertheless, Jean tried to calm himself down. Craning his neck to peek over his shoulder, the sleeping figure of Marco Bodt could be seen, his side rising and falling rhythmically. It was nice to know that the other boy wasn't freaked out by his sudden clingy-sickness. What even was that? Some kind of heat stroke or something, he guessed. Jean had always been especially susceptible to heat, though he was fine in colder weather. Maybe he just had a naturally high body temperature. It wasn't uncommon, and could be quite nice in the cold winter months. 

Deciding that he could use however long he had left, Jean tried to fall asleep. That's when the wake-up call sounded, and everybody (grumpily) got up. It was going to be a long day. 

\---

Dinner was as boring as ever, which was to say it was full of angst. And after a day of running laps and sparring, Jean was not willing to put up with Jaeger's shit. Or anybody's, for that matter (Eren just had a natural talent for pissing the blonde off). Marco quietly ate his dinner, making friendly conversation about the day ("Wow, Jean. Don't the cicadas sound lovely?" "Fucking no. Cicadas are annoying as fuck, Marco." "Laps were tough today, huh?" "Yeah, but at least it's a little cooler than yesterday." "Mmmm cicadas..." "The fuck, Marco...")

For the second day in a row, Jean decided to retire early. He'd scarfed down most of his dinner, and Sasha was more than willing to snatch what he didn't finish. Marco followed suit, wanting to keep an eye on his friend in case of another episode. He trailed after the younger scout, earning a few looks. It was no rare occurrence to see Marco and Jean together, but the tender look in Marco's eyes was different than anything they'd witnessed prior. Very few knew what the gaze held (the trainees were all fifteen and sixteen, after all), but those who recognized it kept their mouths shut tight. They could say it was for Marco's privacy, but in reality, nobody could understand why the eyes of a love-struck sweetheart like Marco were trailed on Jean-horse-face-Kirstein. Marco was nice, caring, gentle to a fault. He was the poster child of perfection. And then there was Jean, who was an aggressive, angsty piece of shit who couldn't bite his tounge often enough. The two were polar opposites, but it was easy to see that they balanced out. The comforting words of Marco could (sometimes) pull Jean from a fight with Eren, a huge feat indeed. And Jean was a rehibilitation project for his friend, a broken soul just waiting for the right person to come along. They were perfect friends, but could they really make it as lovers?

When they were back in their quarters, the two friends strayed from each others' sides to their respective beds. Boots were placed beside beds, and the two recruits laid down on their scruffy sheets. 

"Why did you smell like roses last night?" Jean asked out of the blue, legs crossed as he stared up at Connie's bunk, the one above his own. The wood was dark, the black stain originally used faded from years of existence. 

"Oh! On my way to lunch yesterday, somebody got caught in a rose bush. How, I've no clue, but they did, so I stopped to help 'im out. It took a while, though, and it was a tad... physical, trying to untangle his from the thorns." Marco was nonchalant as he relayed the story, using his hands to describe everywhere that the officer that been stuck with thorns. The cadet laughed as he recalled the way with which said officer had walked away, to the infirmary, like he had a stick shoved up his butt. Jean gave a snort to the story, but something in the back of his head was upset that somebody had been close to Marco. 

_Brain, shut the fuck up! I don't need your constant playing with my emotions! Please, just stop._ Muttering a swift goodnight to Marco, who pulled a book from beneath his bed (where had that come from?) and started to read to himself. Lucky for Jean, he could fall asleep at the drop of a hat (usually-- there were certain occassions that kept him up), and the blonde was out like a light in no time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so terribly sorry for not updating this! I was grounded (I mean, I still am), but I didn't want to leave anybody who wanted another chapter hanging for too long. I know I get antsy. So, I don't really know when the next chapter will be up. Please pardon any spelling errors, by the way. Typing on an iPod is not my forte. 
> 
> On another note, thank you guys so much for the kudos!! I appreciate them more than you probably know :)


	3. Spiders 'n' Stuff

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm pulling all of this out of nowhere because I felt this fic needed to be updated. I'm sorry for not updating more!!

"Jean! OhmygodJeanwakeupnowplease!!" Jean Kirstein awoke to Marco frantically whispering and shaking his shoulder. When the younger's eyes fluttered open, he could see the look of absolute terror on his freckled friend's face. 

"Marco, what's wrong?" Jean asked, propping himself up on one elbow and managing to look somewhat awake. 

"Jean, there's a spider on my bed! Please kill it please please please! I can't sleep," Marco whimpered pitifully, physically shaking. How could he be that scared of spiders? Of course, Jean was nobody to talk. He wouldn't touch a spider with a ten foot pole. 

"Fuck no! Spiders are gross as shit. I'm not touching one." 

"Then what am I going to do?" The way Marco's voice squeaked on 'do' made Jean feel bad. He could go wake up Reiner, but the brute was uncharacteristically grumpy without sleep. Annie could probably kill it, but then Marco would get teased for being a wuss and asking help of a girl. They needed a quiet solution, one that wouldn't get attention. 

"You could find a bunkmate for the night, I suppose," Jean decided after a minute of mulling things over. Marco was basically everybody's friend, so anybody would've been fine. Except Jean. He was still wrestling his 'feelings', though they hadn't resurfaced yet in the blonde's half-asleep state. 

"Okay. Scoot over." Of course. 

If he put up a fight, then Marco would think Jean was mad, or that the older had done something gross. So, whilst beating himself up internally for having emotions, Jean dragged himself over a little so his taller friend could have room on his already-cramped mattress. The way they fit together was awkward at first, but they were both enjoying it secretly, so neither spoke up. One of Marco's hands was resting on Jean's thigh for optimum comfort, while the other was curled into to his chest. Jean looked much like a cat, the curve of his position like a crescent moon. His arms were pulled against his torso, and their lanky legs touched at the knees and feet. 

If Jean listened closely, over the night birds and crickets, he could hear Marco's breath stutter. If Marco listened closely, over his classmates' soft snores and the frantic beating of his own heart, he could hear that Jean had stopped breathing. They were just frozen for a bit before Marco muttered something about Jean being "a furnace! Gosh, you're so warm! No wonder you had a heat-stroke-thingy." ("'Heat-stroke-thingy'" "Shut up!")

It wasn't hard for either to sleep, skin tingling where it touched the other and the hum of summer bugs outside. Throughout the night, they managed to shift positions so that Jean was spooning Marco, head tucked against the older's neck. Luckily, it was dark when everybody else awoke, so only the two involved knew. And on their way to breakfast, Jean could've sworn he heard Marco say, "We should do that more often."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's kinda short. And weird. I'm totally on the bandwagon of arachnophobic Jean and Marco. Hell yes. This was slightly relevant to the plot... Moreso than I thought it would be.
> 
> Next chapter will probably have angst, so be prepared!! Thanks so much for reading :^)


End file.
